[FF] Phantoms (by Burnout)

[Soldat der Trauer]

Ohhhhhhhh! A new update!

What the bloody hell was that thing, though?

[Kieran]

That was surprising.

[ItsaRandomUsername]

First off, its good to see you back in action, Burnout.

Second, your writing is just as visceral and engrossing as ever. It really put me in the hotseat with Ichiro.

Third, I'll second (third?) that response of ohgodwhatthehellisthatthing - which is likely just the sort of reaction you were looking for.

Fourthly, the loss of Tyrfing. That was foreshadowed to. You sly dog.

[Imperial]

Hm. I'm guessing we have a serial killer Servant to the tune of Zero-Caster on our hands. The armor and weaponry implies someone from another time. Then again, it may have been a loony Master.

Either way, I'm incredibly excited to see more Phantoms.

[Burnout]

Red, red – A swirl of nightmare color...


The world whipped at me, yet I knew I’d left it far behind already.


The pain snapped at my heels like a cur, and simultaneously seemed a thing alive inside me – curdling in the very core of my being, ready to come boiling out at any instant.


My face – my *face*-


I ran from the awful sadness of Elise’s expression, in that last pathetic instant as she writhed in my grasp, shattered wrists making empty mittens of her hands.


“…ast…”


I ran from Schneider’s eyeless gaze, wild and accusing and asking why, why why-


“…ter-“


But most of all, I ran from the pain. A vast black shape, a sound so huge it drowned out even the scream of memory. Building, growing swelling – Filling my entire existence, until it became the voice of what I used to be.


It took-


“…ter. Breathe-“


It took my face.


All of the world had become twin monochromes of hell – all of its weight centered on the flapping, tattered skin that slid and oozed and ran with blind tears. Through one eye, I peered – seeing, but blind – at the confusion of the surroundings that flashed past.


Ground.


Sky.


Ground again.


The wind, howling in my ears.


The flutter of a grey cloak – the dead ivory of a skull-mask…


My hands. Clutching, clasping something infinitely precious. Fingers probing the ruin, finding only crimson tears.


“Master-!”


Impact. The ground, hard against my back. My heels, pushing against the gravel. Low, animal noises from my throat.


Already thinking – This is forever, this is the end, only hell awaits.


Eons passed in a thermite blaze.


A hand closed on my wrist. Fingers hard, unyielding as iron. The white phosphorous that gesture ignited inside me burned spastic jerks through my arms and legs, and banged by head against stone.


Fabric thrust between my lips, against my teeth.


“Bite down,” Reiji said, distant. Clinical. “Go on.”


My teeth sank into his ulna and tasted cloth and dust and ash, muffling my screams as darkness descended upon half the world, the vice of the winding bandage crammed into two shattering minutes that transcended agony.


His mask loomed above me, an ivory grotesque – an eternal smile. Above it all.


In that instant – for one blind moment – I hated him, truly. I hated him the way the dying, the maimed, hate the whole.


I had to open my eyes. I had to.


Hhhh hhh h-


Had-


“I can’t stop the bleeding.”


His hand, applying pitiless pressure, and why didn’t it heal?


Not blind. Please – Not blind.


“The mansion. It’s close.”


I exhaled, and tasted blood, tasted bile. Had to tell him. Had to-


I spat out a gobbet of filth, felt it break and drool down my chin. The sound I made –


“Nnnnnkkkk-“


“Hold on. Hold on.”


The steel was in Assassin’s voice, now – And something beneath it. A hollowness. Dread.


My lips peeled back from my teeth, as somehow – somehow – I smiled through the blood slick, through the pain haze, up at the grinning death that leered down at me.


“It-“


My tongue worked, slow, thick. I had to say this – I had to. I had to live-


“…hurch-“


The pressure eased. Assassin’s hand clasped mine, squeezed.


“-I know.”


There was a kindness to Reiji’s voice that made me want to tell the truth. Only a little, but it was there – Perhaps not much beyond the smallest mercy, a cigarette before the firing squad, but it very nearly got the job done.


Tell him, I thought. Tell him you've been lying, you've been lying *all along*-


And see-


Tell him, I thought. But-


Instead, I said-


“The *church*-“


My voice was a rasp, a gurgle. My fingers clenched down on his, with all the strength I could muster.


“The church-“


The fog closed in, the blackness swelled.


The world went away.

[ItsaRandomUsername]

Four years later and I'm still excited to see an update out of this.

[Imperial]

May it never die.

[warellis]

Holy crap it updated! Where have you been Burnout!?

Has any new info from TM in the 4 years changed anything for the story?

[Burnout]

A MOMENT IN TIME, YEARS AGO


My first impressions of London:


The babble of voices, above the motorbikes and café music. The bloom of fountains, as beautifully-dressed people – carefree in their lingering – roam. Men wearing suits without ties kiss beautiful, thin women in light dresses of swirling colors, holding shopping bags.


A quiet room. The whisper of expensive material on a green baize-colored table.


Verdi, I heard, whispers over the speakers.


The dress shirt felt like silk, but held its form like well-starched cotton. The suit – a soft grey – felt like cool, cold air against my skin. It touched me in strange places, light but never weightless – a world away from the simple clothes I’d worn here.


She’d insisted, of course, in that charming way I was already so familiar with – that I could never bring myself to say ‘no’ to.


“Ichiro, it’s important,” she’d said, just this side of severe – her arms folded across her chest, with that pout that was always on the verge of becoming a smile. She’d glanced over at Schneider, and some secret communication passed between them – He’d shrugged, as if in sympathy, then glanced down and to the side. “-It’s how members of the Association dress. It’s about respect – About making a good impression. Those things matter, Ichiro.”


Outnumbered, I’d cast around for support. “But,” I said, “-But the banquet’s tonight. I’m supposed to get a suit at this hour? It’s not like I-“


And Schneider stirred, at last. Saturnine, smiling – and I had the distinct impression of the jaws of a trap snapping shut.


“Ah, why didn’t you say so?” he’d said – “There’s a man I know – Just up the street, off the main road.” He’d smoothed down the sleeves of his own exquisitely tailored suit, in demonstration. “Here’s my card.”


Just like that, it’d been decided. With Elise’s slender arms around mine, there’d been no escape – She’d steered me down the street, with a flicker of graceful victory in those deep grey eyes.


Elise, I found, did everything gracefully. Especially winning.


************************


A voice, through the curtain-


“How is it, Ichiro?”


I-


“…I don’t know,” I said, honest but uncomprehending. “This is – Is it supposed to be…?”





A sigh. The curtain rattled, as it drew back – And Elise laughed, soft and sweet, clasping her hands together. “-Amazing~!” she said, turning the full force of that smile on me – A smile that took my breath away, that made my heart ache. I’d never seen anything more radiant, that simple charm so essential to her nature. “Ah – Something’s still missing.”


She padded forward, cat-footed, light on her feet. The tips of Elise’s fingers – cool, feather-light – traced the sides of my face. Gently – with exquisite care – she parted my lank black hair, drawing it aside.


“There. Now, it’s perfect.” she murmured – and something in her voice spread a gentle warmth beneath my skin. “You have a handsome face, Ichiro. I want to see it, always.”


“I’m not sure-” I began.


“I was joking,” she said. “You don’t really do jokes, do you, Ichiro?”


“No, I-”





And without warning – without any hesitation at all – she leaned in close, and her lips brushed against mine. It felt like a jolt, a tingle of static electricity that raced through every fiber of my being…And then she was drawing away, her scarf fluttering in her wake, new color in her cheeks-


Elise-


Elise, wait.


Elise, don’t g-


************************

NOW:


The long night was over. The first flush of dawn – wan, tentative – spread a pale radiance across the horizon, through the looming swell of pitch-black clouds.


Within the church, the light from the votive candles fixed before the altar was the only illumination. There was a spare, thin golden light, an atmosphere of frugality and numinous grace.


Assassin looked up into the flickering flames of the candles, seeing the many shadows and possible shadows they cast, interlapping and criss-crossing the stone floor like the myriad possibilities of the future.


He tried not to look into the thicker, blacker shadows.


The creak of hinges. Soft footfalls, careful, measured, as Arisa made the rounds, her pale hair casting paler lights against her skin. She moved like a ghost, snuffing the candles one-by-one as the wan light streamed in through the stained-glass windows.


“-How is he?”


He’d laced his fingers together, leeched all emotion from his voice. But memory lurked, close to the surface – reminding him of how it’d been in the past.


Cal, close to the altar. Too-young eyes set in a too-old face, bright with something that might be hatred, or sorrow, or nothing at all. The patient ticking of the watch, marking the moments to oblivion. The cold steel of the gun in his hand-


“My grandfather knew you, you know.” Arisa’s voice was calm, serene. As if she had all the time in the world. “You never met, but he knew you.”


“I-” An effort of will made his fingers uncurl.


“It caused him an awful lot of trouble,” she went on – Her gaze going to the whitewashed walls, as if they held the living past. “-he was on sabbatical, I believe. The first time in twenty years. Family business to attend to.”


Her lips curved in a smile. Her eyes – sometimes blue, sometimes green – glinted with secret amusement.


“…Just in time to miss the Day of Wrath.”


She canted her head, regarding him sidelong. “It amused him, I think. My grandfather was a strange man, of strange humors. Perverse, some would say.”


Reiji felt his throat tighten, felt a fist around his heart clench. His life, someone else’s joke.


Arisa’s gaze lingered for a long, lightless moment – before she turned away, at last. In profile, there was something holy about her – marble sheathed in austere black.


“Sometimes, I wonder what he would have done, if he’d been present. I think, perhaps, he'd have left it to God’s will. He believed that it was Man’s nature to destroy himself. History suggests he may have been right.”


A silence, numinous.


“What do you say, Reiji?”


She knew his name, that soft voice like a knife slipping beneath his skin. He exhaled, slowly – a breath he didn’t need.


“-How is he?”


The lift of slim shoulders, the slightest of shrugs. “See for yourself.”


“Is he in pain?”


“Yes. But no more than he deserves.”


Reiji rose. He stretched vitality back into his frame. As he strode down the aisle towards the distant room that smelled of copper and noble rot, one thought lingered:


What did ‘deserve’ have to do with anything?


************************


And then there were no dreams, only darkness. It was a lonely place – Infinite, lightless. But not silent.


I could hear it. The sound, the persistent whining note. It cut through the empty, dreamless darkness, droning, squealing, monotonous…


I woke, slammed awake as if by some vast shock. The whining note quit, but the silence that followed was worse.


A bitter taste, in my mouth. The pressure of gauze, a blurriness to the edge of my vision. And the smell, that awful smell – Beneath it all.


“El-“


No. No, she was gone.


“Shir-“


No.


It was dark, in this room. At first, I could see nothing – but then, like a magician’s trick, the vague outline of a bed appeared around me. I could feel the blank weakness, weighing me down, the pain lancing through my skull when I tried to move. Dark spots flashed in my field of vision, my throat parched – a buzzing, buzzing, in my ears.


I breathed, and felt the tension pull at sutures. There was a feeling of being stretched from within, hollowed-out. Exhaustion gnawed at me, narrowing the world to the confines of my own aching skull.


“Reiji,” I whispered. It came out as a croak. “Reiji.”


Then light. A hard, white sun, shining into my eyes – blurring my vision with tears – and a tall figure standing over me. A shadow, silhouetted by clustered suns. With a casual, godlike gesture, it reached up a hand, and swung the suns aside in the sky.


“You’re awake,” Assassin said, and turned away. Liquid sloshed – a straw placed against my lips. I drank, once then again. Something in my guts felt like it’d torn. I nearly retched, felt the gorge rise in my throat-


“More?”


I shook my head, no.


“Master-“


Focus. Focus. Thought became will became deed. The pain dimmed, to a pounding at my temples, the scratch of binding gauze against my skin.


I breathed out, and the pain eased away. Almost human, now. Almost.


I could feel my thoughts gathering, coherent again. In truth, I could remember little – the memory of pain eclipsed just about everything else.


“How-” It came out as a dry rattle. I bit my lip hard enough to taste blood, tried again. “How long…asleep?”


“Twelve hours. At most.”


So. Half a day, gone. Too late to influence anything, too late to do anything but lick my wounds. Slowly, hesitant, I reached up to my face – questing fingers encountering only linen, packed gauze, a flare of pain.


“These – Off.”


Silence. Then, a flash of steel – Reiji’s knife, in his hand. I held myself still, achingly still, as he slid the knife’s needle-point beneath the bandages, and sawed away.


The rush of air felt like acid against my skin.


“I-“ Words failed me, for a moment. Another. “I need-”


He didn’t hesitate, not for an instant, rot him. He tilted the knife, so I could glimpse my reflection in the steel, and-


Who was that? Was that me? Was that me?


The eyes – Hollow, swollen with blood. A jagged gash, long and crooked – a vicious, hooking wound, gouging down from just above my left eye to my jaw. My nose, half-sheared away – the lip split, cleft, sealed with a seam of half-healed flesh.


You have a handsome face, Ichiro-


In my ears, the infernal buzzing, buzzing, buzzing-


“She reattached-” Reiji’s voice trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid. “She would have done more, but the cut-“


It wouldn’t heal. I knew this, in the pounding of my skull, as my hands curled into fists. I’d been wounded before, seen gouges in my flesh seal over with sickening slowness, the way a smile fades.


This was – this was different. This was forever.


I want to see it, always.


And I could feel it, then. The laughter, bubbling up in my throat. I clenched down on it, sealing it away – For if I began, I knew I would never stop.


A slow breath. Another. Waiting for the pounding to die away, for the pain to dim to an ache.


“This changes nothing,” I said, and I made it a truth.


“Master-“


My hands found the mattress beneath me. Pushed myself up, slowly – the effort made my arms buckle, made my limbs ache until Reinforcement made them strong again. Until I could ease my legs – very, very slowly – to the ground.


“Nothing.” My tongue felt heavy, leaden, in my mouth as I forced the words out. Assassin’s stark shadow never wavered, as it fell across me – And for a moment, I thought he would say something. Then-


“As you say, Master.”


And so it was – as it should be.

[Burnout]

“Our Lazarus awakens.”


Arisa’s voice was calm, measured - always on the edge of amusement, with nothing but serene confidence in her remarkable eyes.


Or perhaps there was simply nothing there at all.


“What does not kill me,” I said, without inflection. The bandages itched, like nothing else on earth – my face felt raw, vulnerable, as if a single touch would split my head in two. I was painfully, achingly aware of it, of the filth that streaked my coat – the blood in my hair, dried and crusted.


I hadn’t been able to bring myself to re-dress the wound, not with what had been revealed – the puckered, dead-looking flesh woven together with impossibly fine fiber-stitches. Clouds of bruises blotched my face, a dull throb – deep set – welling out from the ruin of my nose.


I’d stared, for the longest time, at the blood that crusted the stitching. I could – if I tried – remember how it’d felt. The shock, the pain, the sense of severance…As if a part of my self had been cut away, not just my flesh. I’d stared until my hands had began to shake, until-


In the end, I’d had Assassin do it for me.


Reinforcement steadied my hands, lent strength to my legs. But I was weak, pitiably weak – Senses occluded by shock, resisting the urge to trace the ruin of my face, to reassure myself that the damage wasn’t that bad-


But why lie? It was a horror. I was a horror.


“This-” I reached up, but caught myself in time. “-Thank you.”


She shrugged, as if it meant nothing at all.


“Thank your Servant,” Arisa said – and now, the faintest flicker of a smile danced across her lips. “He was…very convincing. Eloquent, even.”


I had a moment to wonder what, exactly, she meant – before her gaze dropped to my shoulder, where Tyrfing’s case had hung. I shifted, uncomfortable beneath the silent question, moved to say-


“-I lost it.”


“Upon my soul,” she said, softly, “-that is unfortunate.”


“It is what it is,” I replied, though I knew she was right. My hand came to rest on the varnished wood of a pew, steadying myself – even as I felt the slow, spreading flush of shame beneath my skin.


My sword. The one he’d made it for me.


I’d lost it again.


When I’d held it in my hands, in this very church – when I’d lifted it free, felt it purr to life in my hands – for moment, I had a sense of something like destiny.


And now-


That thing. That monster. It did this to me. It took my sword.


The dizzying rush of hatred lifted me up, and some measure of focus returned.


I drew a deep breath, and lowered my head.


“Moderator Ortensia,” I said, formally. “I am in your debt. All that I owe you, up to now, is nothing. I owe you my life.”


Silence. The black lace of her cassock rustled – Arisa’s footfalls almost soundless, against the crimson of the carpet below. I stiffened, instinctively, as cool fingers cupped my cheek, as she tilted her head back to regard me.


For a moment, her eyes-


She looked like – She almost looked like…


“Ichiro?”


My name, in that soft, sweet voice. The cool touch of her fingers against my skin, just beneath where the bandages met flesh.


“-I need you to kill someone for me."

[ItsaRandomUsername]

He can try to pick himself up and carry on, but I don't think he exactly has the luxury, especially in this sort of Grail War.